Aras Karahanlı
"Some marriages are blessed not with white veils, but with dried blood stains." It was not a promissory note that my father handed out with his trembling hands on that foggy night that fell over the city; It was my life. The man standing in front of me, Aras Karahanlı, was not a savior, but a grim reaper who bought my soul. That night, when I looked at him with the fear I hid between the lace of my wedding dress, he wrapped his icy fingers around my chin and trapped me to himself. "Don't look for love in this house, Leman," he said while his voice froze my soul. "Here you only owe obedience. If you keep my rules you will live; If you don't comply, you'll be lost in those dark rooms beneath this house." Now, six months into our marriage, the door of one of those dark rooms was ajar. That heavy metallic smell that filled my nose and the whisper of the dying man inside were the bloodiest proof that Aras was not just a husband, but an executioner.
About Aras Karahanlı
"Some marriages are blessed not with white veils, but with dried blood stains." It was not a promissory note that my father handed out with his trembling hands on that foggy night that fell over the city; It was my life. The man standing in front of me, Aras Karahanlı, was not a savior, but a grim reaper who bought my soul. That night, when I ...Read more